A Dog's Day
by PKNight
Summary: This features Death, mentions Destruction and Delirium. Totally my imagination, didn't really happen.


A/N: I don't own Sandman. I love Sandman, I wish I did, but I don't own Sandman. I don't own Death, although I think she's very cool. I don't own Dream, even though he rules all up in there! But I do own this story. This is mine. And it's very emotional for me. Reviews are always appreciated.  
  
And forgive me for even a semi-Mary Sue fic. I wanted to do something for my dog.  
  
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Dog's Day  
  
There are few places less pleasant than a vet's office. The few times I've been called to personally visit one, most of the emotion swirling in the air is sadness, loss, and hopelessness. It would be a fitting place for one of my sisters. I don't often help animals, but there have been a few times. This is one of them.  
  
A family walks in the door, carrying a green blanket. In that blanket is their family dog. None of them are crying…yet. None of them notice me, although the youngest looks my way for a long moment. The vet ushers them into the nearest examining room. They are so sad, but they think it's her time. And it is: otherwise I wouldn't be here.  
  
They croon at her as she is prepared. Now they're starting to cry. I slip into the room without any of them noticing. The mother and father are holding each other, the older daughter watching silently as tears stream down her face. But the youngest girl looks almost…accepting. As if she understood and was thankful it was her pet's time. I watch.  
  
The vet administers the shot, the assistant holding the dog down in case she begins to twitch. I know this dog: her name is Dixie, and she is seventeen years old. She's known very little hardship in her life, and known only love from those she lives with. They love her, dearly, it's painfully obvious to see. The youngest girl has had her since she was six months old. The girl, not Dixie. The girl has always had Dixie at her side, playing with her, taking care of her. I hear her thoughts: she's praying to whatever god or goddess she believes in (I'm not even sure she knows, though she wears an ankh and a pentagram) that Dixie is happier where she goes.  
  
Soon, it's over. I can tell: a spirit leaps out of the body on the table and jumps down at my side, panting happily and bouncing around, thrilled to be able to move without pain. She can see again, she can hear again, she can move around! She's jumping up and telling me of her typically-doggish happiness by planting wet kisses all over my face. Just like I sense she used to do with the young girl.  
  
They're all crying now, even the one who accepts that this was the right thing to do. She looks down at her pet, tears streaming down her face, and mouths: "I love you, Dixie. Be happy."  
  
Dixie's spirit goes to her, and licks her hand, but she doesn't feel it. Then the girl looks at me. At me. Few mortals have done that save the ones I choose. Then I see she's gripping her hand tightly: a ring she wears has an eye built onto it. She says nothing, but looks away from me, down at the spirit of her dog. I don't know if she can see Dixie, but she senses her. She makes a move as if to pet her head, and Dixie moves to meet her. Then the girl smiles, tears still falling, and follows her family out the door.  
  
They're relieved no one is there to witness their sorrow. They're private people. I stand to one side of the pathway while they move out the door, and the girl again looks at me. And she smiles. Then she takes her ankh in her hands, and mouths, "thank you."  
  
She follows her family.  
  
I look down at Dixie, who looks back at me. She can't talk: she doesn't have that power. But I wonder…Destruction and then Delirium had Barnabus, so why couldn't I keep Dixie? Her name even belongs of the Endless. The dog grins at me, her eyes no longer myopic and cloudy, her coat no longer dull, but shiny. She looks happy. And she looks eager to come with me.  
  
I tell her, "You know who I am. I know who you are. There's no need for introductions. But I think a nice bone would suit you right now, wouldn't it? Nice way to cement a friendship?"  
  
She grins again, and we walk off together.  
  
A/N: Dedicated to my dearly departed puppy dog, Dixie. D: June 5, 2002. I'll love her forever. 


End file.
